


Worth It

by nandonman



Series: The Horror Of Our Love [1]
Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: AU where Josh becomes mute, Big Angst times, Gen, Half-Wendigo Josh Washington, M/M, Not-so-subtle Washingroe undertones, bcs that's all I write
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:26:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24389632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nandonman/pseuds/nandonman
Summary: I appreciate his help. I do. But we both know this can't last.
Relationships: Mike Munroe/Josh Washington
Series: The Horror Of Our Love [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1773892
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Worth It

**Author's Note:**

> TW for body horror, eating disorder, cannibalism references

I appreciate his help. I do. But we both know this can't last.

You see, I'm not who I was. I'm something else. Josh was fun, troubled, excitable, goofy at times. And Mike saw no point in saving him down in the mines. He watched that guy get dragged away, kicking and screaming for his life.

So why would he care for me now?

"Here."

I snap out of my thoughts enough to see that Mike's handing me a pen and notepad.

_Thanks._

Mike's place is a neat little townhome not too far from CU Boulder, where he went to school. I like it here. A couple months ago, Chris and I would be coming over with Matt to hang out and game. As stupid as it is, we were really into COD. And why not come over? We got to actually attack whoever screwed up the mission. Sadly, that was usually me. But it was always lighthearted--so unlike the heaviness in the air now.

At the end of the hallway, Mike's gathering my bags to take them upstairs. It's a two-bedroom, so I get my own room. ~~Part of me wishes we shared.~~

The hood over my head feels insufficient in hiding my face. I asked for a mask at the hospital, but they were out. Figures.

You might be wondering why I'm sitting on Mike's couch, drawing stick figures on the notepad he gave me. It's cool. I didn't really get it either at first. But I do now.

Because Mike and I were the only ones to make it out of Blackwood Pines. Guy's got a serious guilt complex--I can tell, and I've only seen him twice since the mountain. I think he feels like taking care of me will get rid of the pain--will mean he managed to save someone.

But he didn't.

Originally, my mom and pops were going to take me back home, but I refused. It was one of those situations where someone offers something very loosely, and you can see it in their eyes that they're hoping you'll say no. I didn't want to say goodbye.

When Mike comes back downstairs, he's rubbing his hands on his coat and avoiding my eyes. I get it. It's kind of awkward, with the scars and all.

". . . How are you holding up?"

I try to smile. It could've been reassuring, but judging by the way his eyes widen as he quickly looks away, I'm guessing it wasn't.

**_Fine. You?_ **

Mike moves closer to see the notepad, then shrugs.

"A little hot. And hungry. I'm gonna go turn up the AC. Want anything to eat? Any water?"

I don't mean to but I know I freeze. Just the mention of food sends adrenaline through my body--different from the mines. God, no. It's anxiety. I can't even think about food anymore. Not after what I did.

_**Water. Thx** _

"Gotcha."

Mike throws me a small salute before wandering around the house again. This time, he comes back with a glass of water.

I take it from him without turning to face him at my side. This is probably pretty obvious, but I hate for him to see me like this. Not him.

Regardless, I tilt my head back to take a drink and feel Mike's eyes on me. He's staring, but I can't tell what he's thinking. When I look back at him, he quickly drops his gaze, which immediately then flies to his watch.

"It's getting late. Here, uh, why don't you come upstairs and I'll find some sheets for your bed."

The room he takes me to is dark, with blackout curtains. There are movie posters on the walls and a blow-up mattress in the middle of the room, across from the flatscreen TV. I recognize this room as his "gamer cave." That's what Chris called it. I can almost hear him saying it.

Oh god. Chris.

_Images of his body, headless and cold. I held him in my arms for hours. But time went on. And I got so, so inexplicably hungry . . ._

"I know it's not much, but it'll do, right?"

It gets quiet. Mike's looking at me. Quickly regaining my composure, I nod.

"Right. So, uh, don't be afraid to ask for anything, anytime. You look like you could use some sleep, so I'll leave you alone. I've gotta go over some of the papers the doc gave me, so I'll just be in my room. Again, don't hesitate to knock. Alright?"

He's looking in my eyes this time, though I see his eyes stray towards my jaw the longer I stand, unresponsive.

I nod.

"Good. Night, man."

And then he's gone, leaving my door cracked, the artificial light streaming out into the darkness of the hallway outside. I hear him close his door behind him, and then I'm alone.

_~All alone.~_

Dr. Hill's voice again. I try to speak, to tell him to shut up, but all that comes out is a stuttered creaking sound from the back of my throat.

Fuck.

Without anything else to do, I throw off my hoodie and pull off my jeans, then go to the lightswitch and turn em off. Darkness envelopes the room, and I stumble over to my makeshift bed and collapse into the sheets.

My eyes shut and I wish desperately for sleep. I know that if it doesn't come, the thoughts will come back. And all the pain along with it.

Many times, my thoughts began to drift as I laid there in the cold bed. I'd start to think about Chris, or about blood and teeth and the feeling of skin underneath them. But always I pulled it in, albeit with more difficulty than usual, as my go-to was telling myself to shut up. I couldn't do that anymore. So instead I reminded myself in my head, chanted like a mantra that I wasn't alone anymore. I was in the real world, with Mike, with my parents covering the medical costs, with endless possibilities of living life that I would have never had if I'd stayed in that cave--which I didn't.

I focused on those thoughts, thanking God that my thoughts weren't outside of myself anymore. It was still hard to shout above them in my head, but there would've been nothing I could do if they'd spoke to me again. I couldn't talk over them. There was nothing to shut them out with. So I thanked my lucky fucking stars and searched for something innocent, something comforting to occupy my mind until I could pass out.

_Shut up, Josh, just shut up and remember. Remember that you're safe now. And you're not alone._

I wasn't, was I?

My thoughts shifted then to the man in the other room. Say what you will about his reasons, but the fact is that he took me in. He was helping me.

The night stretched on, and I found myself sorting through old memories, trying to keep my spirit alive. The game room was an easy trigger to help me strum up some good times.

I thought about the first time I'd beaten everyone at Smash, which made me remember how hilarious it was that whenever Ashley came over, she'd slam us all in the mud with her uncanny talent as Marth. God, Mike used to get so pissed, Ash would just grin and tease, and Chris would sit there staring like Marth and Mario and the Pokemon Trainer were all bachelors at their wedding.

I couldn't help but smile at that.

What else was there?

I glanced around the room, my eyes well adjusted to the dark by then. There was a Die Hard poster framed to the right of the TV, and the sight of it made me freeze.

That was **not** there before.

_"It's totally a fucking Christmas movie."_

_"Jesus, will you just shut up about it?"_

_"I mean, that's why I'm here, isn't it? At least, we were watching it, until you started groping me."_

_"I'm not groping you, Josh."_

_"Well maybe you should be."_

_"Oh, really?"_

_"If you can take your lips away from me for five seconds, I'll show you my ass."_

_"You're drunk. Go home."_

_"You're also drunk. And your hand's in my pants, so I can't."_

_"Touche."_

_. . ._

_"Josh?"_

_"Fuck, dude, just let me kiss you."_

_". . . Don't leave."_

_. . ._

_"I won't."_

I was still frozen in place by the time I pulled myself out of that particular memory.

I wanted to push it away because that is definitely _not_ how I should be seeing my new roommate/caretaker. But I couldn't. Because Jesus, it must have been a coincidence. Maybe Mike just really liked Die Hard. Because I knew for a fact that we were both slammed that night. We never talked about it, y'know. I just assumed Mike'd forgotten.

And he had. He had forgotten.

Right?

Fed up with my emotions, I decided to flail around and try to find the remote for the TV. Surely, Mike wouldn't mind if I kept it quiet enough. Worst case scenario, he comes in and tells me to turn it off.

And so I finally found the remote, realized I needed the lights to see it, got up, turned them on, then started flicking through Netflix.

_Stranger Things . . . That could be interesting._

An hour later, I was fast asleep, the lights dimmed and the TV remote forgotten a few inches from the palm of my hand, the sound of the TV fading as the world began to fade.

_. . . All I know is, poor thing's_ _scared to death . . . confused . . ._

  
_I think she's been abused or_ _kidnapped or somethin'._

  
_It's 4819 Randolph Lane. Randolph,_  
_right . . ._

_Randolph, Right . . ._

_-_

**Author's Note:**

> More to come 👀


End file.
